


make it up as we go

by corgasbord



Category: Fate/Grand Order, Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms
Genre: Canon Compliant, Fluff, Holding Hands, M/M, Stargazing, stan resistance trio
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-04
Updated: 2018-11-04
Packaged: 2019-08-14 13:18:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16493321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/corgasbord/pseuds/corgasbord
Summary: Between himself and Robin, Billy has trouble telling who's more attached.





	make it up as we go

**Author's Note:**

> i finished the fifth singularity a while ago and was almost offended to see the lack of robin/billy + geronimo content, so of course i then realized that if i want anything to get made i have to make it myself. so here's a short piece where i kinda experimented with billy's characterization a bit, since i love him a lot and want to figure out how to write him!

Billy doesn’t become conscious of just how often he and Robin touch until Robin himself points it out, saying, “Little handsy there, aren’t you, cowboy?”

“Me? Handsy?” Billy asks. His hand slips from where it had rested casually on Robin’s shoulder as he’d leaned over his crouched form, attempting to get a better look at the inventory Robin’s been counting. “I wasn’t even thinking about it. Does it bother you?”

“Well, I dunno, do you like having someone breathe down your neck while you work? No?”

“Okay, okay. Point taken.” Billy steps back with a dismissive wave. “You sure there’s nothing I can do to help?”

“We’re all good. I’m almost done, anyway,” Robin says. “Why don’t you just do another perimeter check in the meantime?”

“Aye aye, cap’n,” Billy says with a lazy salute, and he walks off to do just that.

But his mind is less on potential enemies and more on the things that he didn’t point out. It’s more on the fact that it was Robin who grabbed his hand for the first time as they ran from Celtic soldiers, ensuring that Billy could keep up even on his shorter legs. It’s been Robin dragging him out of danger for a long time, and Billy has only been returning the friendly attitude in kind.

He ponders how Robin might’ve reacted if he’d said as much to him. Maybe he would’ve scoffed and told Billy to buzz off, or maybe Billy would’ve gotten to see him flushed pink up to his ears.

He absentmindedly opens and closes the gloved fingers of his gun hand, black leather shifting on black leather, and wonders which reaction he’d prefer.

-

Like clockwork, it happens again, and again, and again. Unlike before, Billy notices.

Robin takes him by the arm to guide him into hiding spots. Robin pats him firmly on the shoulder before the two of them split up to lay traps. Robin stands at his side whenever he can. Perhaps it’s due to weeks and weeks of traveling together, but even for his one complaint about Billy being touchy, Robin doesn’t really seem to care that they’ve all but glued themselves together at the hip.

Billy isn’t sure if Robin even realizes how often they come into contact, and if so, whether it’s on purpose. He’s never been one to underestimate a rival, though, and if Robin’s making a game of this then he’s perfectly content to be player two.

So Billy slaps Robin on the back when he tells jokes. He casually rests an arm on Robin’s shoulder when they’re talking to someone else. When they’re under fire, he pulls Robin by his hand rather than his cape to duck. And though on occasion Robin will shrug him off, he doesn’t say anything about it.

He thinks Geronimo must have noticed by now, but is too polite to mention it. It’s only some time after they’ve recruited the world’s last Master that Geronimo tells him, “Don’t spend too much time messing around,” and Billy thinks to ask just what Geronimo believes he’s seeing.

“What do you mean by that?”

“Exactly what it sounds like,” Geronimo says. “Stay alert. I know you’re good at doing that, but it’s more important now than ever.”

Billy lets himself examine Geronimo more carefully. The other man has his knife out and is scraping it lightly beneath his nails to pull out any dirt. His brows are creased, eyes fixed pointedly on his hand, lips taut. Slowly, a grin breaks out on Billy’s face.

“You’re worried about us, huh?”

Geronimo smiles, wry and thin-lipped. “Is that not natural? This is a war; anything could happen. I would hate to lose any of my allies.”

“I see, I see.” Billy nods. “So I guess you went ‘round and said something similar to all the others, right?”

Geronimo doesn’t respond, but Billy thinks he sees color rising to his cheeks.

“Aww.” Billy sidles up to Geronimo and gives his side a gentle elbow. “Well, you don’t have to worry about us, old man. If anything, I’d be more worried about everyone else. Maybe go tell our Saber and Lancer friends not to goof off, eh?”

Geronimo sighs. “Well. You’re not wrong about that much.”

“Hey, hey. We’ve survived this long, haven’t we?” Billy assures him. “Green and I have each other’s backs. With all our reinforcements, we’ll have no problem sending them running for the hills.”

Geronimo opens his mouth, closes it, then cocks a brow at Billy. “There’s no need for those code names anymore, is there?”

“I guess not. But it’s more fun that way, yeah?”

“This isn’t a game, Billy,” Geronimo says, long-suffering as ever. “Just… be careful from now on. That’s all I ask. I know that the two of you are capable, but we’ll be setting out to complete some very dangerous tasks soon. Neither of you are invincible, so you have to be on your guard.”

Billy pauses. It would be easy to shrug off Geronimo’s warnings with another joke, dismissing him as a nag and a worrywart, but something sits in his chest and stops him. It hits him just how odd it is to have someone express concern for him of all people, the Wild West’s most famous outlaw. None of the older men he hung around with in life ever showed him that so honestly, whether because there was a time when he really did seem invincible or because they didn’t care.

The worried face of his late mother appears in the back of his mind. He purses his lips and nods, resolute.

“We’ll do our best,” he promises. “I’d hate to let you down this late in the game, after all.”

Geronimo nods back. “Good. We’ll be counting on you.”

This doesn't change much. As before, Billy watches Robin’s back, and Robin watches his. He continues to slap Robin between the shoulder blades when Robin tells jokes, and Robin musses up Billy’s hair as though it’ll make any difference. But there's an unspoken understanding that wasn't there before, a knowledge shared between their whole party: the stakes are enormous, and it's all they can do to protect one another.

And maybe his newfound observance is why when Geronimo declares that himself, Billy, and Robin will be the ones to take back the Capital, the significance of that decision isn’t lost on him.

-

Billy’s fingers stay closed tight around Robin’s wrist, pulling him over dusty hill after dusty hill as the darkness of night sets in and their campsite grows smaller and smaller behind them. Robin hasn’t stopped complaining since Billy first led him away, but Billy only answers his questions about their destination with, “You’ll see.”

“You know,” Robin continues to gripe, “if nothing else, I’ve gotta wonder whether you’re trying to get away from Old Man Geronimo or from Saber.”

“Hey, Geronimo may be a nag, but he’s not all that bad to hang out with,” Billy says. “Though I guess you could call this a little escape.”

“Why?” Robin asks.

Billy tilts his head to peer back at him and says cheekily, “Why not?”

Robin appears taken aback for a moment. Resignation is soon to follow, though, and he pinches the bridge of his nose with his free hand. “We could be attacked at any time,” he points out. “And if we're not attacked by enemies, then we'll get chewed out by Old Man Geronimo when we get back.”

“Oh, don't worry about that. I told him that we're going to scout,” Billy says. “Which isn't a total lie. In any case, it's kinda funny how much he trusts us.”

“Does he?”

Billy shrugs. “Well, I reckon he should by now, or he wouldn't have brought us along with him to the Capital.”

“That sounds backwards to me,” Robin says. “He probably just wants to babysit us.”

“Nah.” Billy shakes his head. “It's been just the two of us for lots of missions so far, right? He wants us with him because he thinks we can do this. The Master is a failsafe, so he would've taken that crew instead if he really doubted us.”

“Huh,” Robin says. “You think so?”

“I'm positive,” Billy says. “I'm pretty good at reading folks, if I do say so myself. For a loner, that is.” He glances backward again, eyes catching Robin's in the dusk. “You should try to have a little more faith, too.”

Robin doesn't respond, but that suits Billy just fine. It's a matter of minutes before he finally stops, still holding Robin's wrist, and says, “All right! This spot is good.”

“Good for what, exactly-” Robin starts to ask, but cuts himself short when Billy gestures in front of him.

The desert drops off some yards from their feet, a steep rocky shelf cut into a mostly flat swath of land. The place they're standing isn't terribly high, certainly not the highest Billy's ever seen, but it's high enough to view the way the desert stretches out for miles before them, shadowy cliffs rising as far as the eye can see.

“Just get a gander for yourself,” Billy says. “This here is the prettiest part of the American Southwest. Best appreciated at night, in my opinion.”

“Holy hell,” Robin mutters. His eyes are trained on the horizon, wide with awe. “I'm still not used to how… how goddamn _big_ this country is.”

Billy smiles and follows his gaze. “Pretty humbling, no? Sometimes… sometimes it's good to remember how small you are. Keeps you grounded.”

“Huh.” He feels Robin’s eyes track back to him. “Never thought I'd hear something like that from you, Mr. Big Bad Outlaw.”

“Eh, don't mind me. Didn't mean to start waxing all philosophical,” Billy says. “More importantly…” He settles down in the dirt with his legs hooked over the cliff's edge, then pats the spot next to him. “Places like the mesas get you the best view of the stars. I used to love just sitting out here when I could and seeing how many different ways I could connect ‘em.”

“Is that right?” Robin asks, but tentatively complies, once again shoulder-to-shoulder with Billy.

“Yup yup. Bet you never got any views like this even up in your trees, huh, Forest King?”

“Hey now, I didn't spend all my time living in trees,” Robin protests, but there's no bite to it. His eyes fix on the sky again and he adds more quietly, “I gotta hand it to you, though. This really is impressive.”

“Right?” Billy lifts his face and lets himself relax for once, because he can't sense enemies for miles and he's tired of being alert. That was all he could do in this life and the last to stay alive, but everything feels insignificant beneath the glittering trail of the Milky Way. “I thought that you should see it at least once, as a visitor in this country.”

Robin hums, low and thoughtful. “This place is important to you, huh?”

“Yeah, I guess so,” Billy says. “There's a lot more at stake than just my home, though, and Mama didn't raise someone who'd turn his back on the world’s people, even if they wanted to see him hanged.”

By now, their hands overlap at the pinkies, but Robin still doesn't complain. He doesn't say anything at all, in fact, and when Billy chances a look at him he sees Robin's eyes glued somewhere distant, not the stars nor the horizon but perhaps even farther away than that.

“Sounds familiar,” he says after a short while. “You know, Billy… maybe you and I aren't so different after all.”

“That's what I've been saying, dummy,” Billy scoffs. “A little slow on the uptake, aren'tcha?”

“Nah, just cautious. I’m sure you of all people can understand that.”

“Hm. S’pose you’re right.” His pinky hooks subtly around Robin’s, and still Robin doesn’t protest. “But, y’know, Robin…”

That causes Robin to turn his head, brows peaking attentively, but Billy only spares him a sidelong glance before letting his line of sight dart back up quick.

“Crazy as all this time has been, I’m glad you’re the first one I ran into way back when.”

It’s silent for a few long moments. Then, Robin’s reply comes, accompanied by a chuckle that almost sounds embarrassed: “You flatter me, cowboy - though I honestly wish you were the first one I ran into, too.”

The two of them laugh over that, over the absurdity of their adventure and the absurdity of the fate that allowed them to cross paths. They laugh to forget how fleeting it’s all going to be, how it’s bound to end one way or another. Instead of talking about all the ways that end might come, they remain there, joined at the arms, not caring how loud they are because they feel so small and the world feels so big that no one can hear them.

And there they stay for a long while after they’ve run out of jokes to make at their companions’ expenses, until Billy pipes up to say, “We should probably at least make it back before sunrise, or Geronimo might really get mad at us.”

“Yeah, good idea,” Robin says, and with that he rises, dusts himself off, and offers his hand to Billy, not for the first time and for what Billy hopes won’t be the last.

Billy takes it and doesn’t let go even as they begin to walk back. As usual, Robin says nothing, but the way his fingers tighten around Billy’s tells him enough.

**Author's Note:**

> on another note, was anyone else bothered by how they were traveling across the whole american continent with no regard to how fucking big it actually is? like no one ever brought up how it'd take you weeks to get anywhere on foot, even though they were really particular about travel distances and times in camelot. anyway my point is that america's the singularity that should've taken them the longest and that means robin and billy were together for probably months


End file.
